He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't-

Fuck, he thought, covering his mouth with his hand.

He felt a hand covered in cloth grab his shoulder. It was warm, and Bruce's brain deceived him into believing it was welcoming. Quincy spun him around, forcing him, once again, to look at him. Bruce gave him a stern look. "I'm really tired of your bullshit, Quincy," he said, fuming. "I really loved you, you know. I thought you would at least do me the favor of letting me down easy, but no. You had to lead me to believe that you felt the same, then go and kiss some girl right in the middle of the fucking hall, right under my nose. And you know what? Even though you're a self-centered douche," he paused for a moment. "I still love you. And I hate myself for it." Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he turned on his heel and walked away. Quincy wanted to run after him, to explain everything, but the words got caught in his throat. It was in that moment that he knew he screwed up. Badly.

*~*~*

Bruce felt his phone buzzing all day. He didn't need, or even want, to answer it; he knew who it was and was not interested in his shenanigans. He fucked up, and Bruce was just about done with him. A small voice in the back of his head was telling him to forgive him, to give him a second chance. A much more prominent voice was telling him he was a jerk. He ignored both the voices and checked his phone. Quincy had sent him over forty messages. He sighed. 'Bruce just give me a chance to explain,' the first one read. Bruce rolled his eyes. 'It wasn't what it looked like. I was trying to prove to my friends that kissing you was a mistake' 'Wait shit that came out wrong' 'I mean they wanted me to prove I'm not gay?' 'Look I really like you Bruce but my friends are in a sort of special group and they won't let me in if I'm gay'. The messages that followed were thorough descriptions of the 'special group' that, unfortunately, I do not have the disclosure to display at this time. Bruce sighed again and responded. 'What am I supposed to do then? Just let you kiss random girls?' He put his head down on the cool, waxy, wooden surface in front of him.

*~*~*

Quincy was in a panic. Why did he want to be in this group so bad in the first place? He felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Thank god. After reading Bruce's message, he went into a slight panic. What was he supposed to do? It was about 10 minutes before he came up with something. 'Let me take you out on a date,' was his reply.